


everglow

by cabinfever



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Molly's low charisma comes out to play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: Mollymauk learns Zemnian. Or, he tries, at least.Caleb finds it endearing.





	everglow

Camp is different when it’s just four of them.

Without Yasha, he has nobody else with whom to commiserate about the difficulties of getting along with other folks. He misses her quiet frankness.

And Jester, of course. In her absence, the world has never sounded quite so silent.

He thinks he even misses Fjord complaining about being allergic to Frumpkin.

So this is what it’s like to have friends. You enjoy their company right up until you begin missing them.

He doesn’t like this ache in his heart.

So he keeps busy for much of the time, reading and taking notes and practicing the spells he has to spare. Little cantrips are simple enough to keep his mind busy, though he does sometimes hope for a fight, if only to truly use his magic and his components to channel the restless magic in his heart.

Then he remembers everything that comes with fighting, and he decides against it.

“Goods from the crossroads for all!” Mollymauk announces as he swaggers into camp, holding several packages of...something. 

Caleb looks up from his spellbook, tucking it away in his jacket where it belongs. The cold has brought a flush to Mollymauk’s cheeks, bringing a magenta cast to his lilac skin. It’s a striking combination when compared with his eyes and jacket. It just adds to the rainbow he wears.

Nott levels her crossbow at Mollymauk, squinting at him down the sights of it. “What took you so long?”

“I was window shopping. Seeing the sights.”

“There are no windows at the crossroads, Molly,” Beauregard says from her perch atop the wagon. She gnaws on another piece of jerky. 

Mollymauk waves his hand in the air. “Semantics. It’s a metaphor.”

“That’s not what a metaphor is, you absolute-”

“What have you brought us?” Caleb asks loudly.

The red eyes of his tiefling companion flash in the sunlight when they focus on him. “Mister Caleb. So glad you asked. I decided that we might be in need of some more winter accessories, so I picked up some blankets.” He drops a few of the heavier packages on the wagon. “Oh, and treats for the horses,” he adds, tossing a large bag on the ground. An apple spills out from the mouth of the burlap sack. 

Nott clambers up onto the wagon, untying some of the packages. “These are going to be good,” she says. “There’s a lot of them, though.”

“Extras!” Mollymauk chirps.

They all know what he means, and it’s no coincidence that there are seven blankets here for them, but none of them quite bring it up.

“And I also have to pass out some more of the provisions to you all. It’s dinner time.”

“In truth, these were meant to feed the whole group, but…” He trails off, and his tail ceases its restless weaving, drooping to the ground. A rare silence overcomes them all for once, and though Caleb is usually quite content with a lull in conversation, he can’t help but notice how unnatural it is when Mollymauk is not speaking.

So it seems that they are going to acknowledge it.

Nott offers, “Shouldn’t we pass them all out, then? What if  _ you  _ get kidnapped too?”

“We don’t know that they got kidnapped,” Beauregard protests.

“Jester left her bag, Beau. She doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Mollymauk retorts. “She didn’t leave us on purpose.” He bites his lip, baring a sharp canine tooth against his lavender skin, and says, “Nott, you have a point. I’ll give everything out. Give me a moment.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Nott says quietly, and she returns to fiddling with the crossbow she got from Clef Tinkertop. The gears clink in a soothing rhythm in the background, fading in along with the quiet songs of distant birds.

“I’ll just hold onto the stuff for the other three, then?” Mollymauk asks.

“Might be best to split it up for...reasons.” Beau holds her hand out. “I’ll take Fjord’s.”

Caleb shares a look with Nott, who shrugs. He looks back to Mollymauk and says, “I suppose...I can take Jester’s share, if nobody is opposed.”

Several packages of rations fly his way as Mollymauk tosses them underhand; Beauregard receives a similar treatment. “Then I’ll keep Yasha’s.” He searches around in his bags for a moment longer. “Oh! I kept the rolls separately. Hang on a moment.”

Beauregard reaches for one of the rolls, but Mollymauk’s tail whips around to smack her on the hand before she can get too close. Beauregard recoils, rubbing the skin on her knuckles. “What the fuck, Molly?” she asks, shaking her hand out. 

“I would have shared if you’d waited, Beau, honestly. Think of it as a test in patience.”

“Fuck you.”

Mollymauk flashes her a smile, wrapping his tail briefly around Beauregard's wrist before releasing her. He passes her the rolls regardless with a singsonged “Fuck you” in return. Beauregard elbows him but takes the offered rolls anyway, biting into one and immediately closing her eyes to enjoy the taste of it. After silently gloating over his victory, Mollymauk passes Nott her rations and then makes his way over to where Caleb is scratching Frumpkin beneath the chin. He twitches his tail in the grass before the two of them, and Frumpkin’s eyes follow the movement immediately. Caleb is half tempted to jump into his body just to know what it feels like to be so engaged.

“You get three rolls, Caleb.”

Caleb attempts something like a smile. “Lucky me.” That sounds enthusiastic, right?

He’s handing things to Caleb

Caleb’s about to start counting them. Counting is easy. Counting is calming.

But Mollymauk beats him to it.

_ “Eins,”  _ he says with a flourish, passing the first. “ _ Zwei. _ And  _ drei.” _

Oh.

“Oh,” Caleb says. “Um.  _ Danke.” _

Mollymauk smiles. “You’re quite welcome.” His accent falters, just a bit, veering into something that almost sounds like Caleb’s home. An imitation, but not on purpose. Like he’s mirroring Caleb. He laughs a little bit and points a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, I’ve things to do. Rations to organize. Ah. Yeah.” His tail flicks in the grass a little bit, knocking into Caleb’s shoe, and then he’s retreating at a pace far greater than his usual swagger.

Caleb watches him go and he thinks-

_ Oh. _

 

\---

 

“Beauregard,” he says one evening while he sits watch with her. They are the two to pair up tonight. Nott and Mollymauk will each have to keep watch alone if they all want to get a full night’s sleep.

“Hm?”

“You enjoy Yasha, do you not? Romantically?”

Beauregard shrugs, spinning her bo staff between her palms. “Romantically isn’t really the word. She’s hot as hell, but, you know. She doesn’t seem interested.”

“Much to your displeasure, I would imagine.”

“Something like that.” Beau raises an eyebrow at him. It looks rather comical while she’s wearing the dark vision goggles. “Why do you ask?”

Caleb picks at the sleeve of his coat. “You seem upset that she is gone. That is all.”

“She’s also my friend, y’know.”

“How can you tell the difference?”

Beauregard fixes him with a long, searching stare. Again, the goggles diminish the weight of it. “Sometimes there isn’t one. Platonic, romantic, attraction-” She shrugs, trailing off. “All mixes together, if you ask me. But I guess I’m not the person to ask.”

“I think you are,” Caleb tells her, and she laughs.

 

\---

 

The next night, he chooses to stay up with Mollymauk. Nott and Beau shrug when he offers and lay down to sleep without much protest. So it’s not as if they...suspect anything, right? As if there’s anything to suspect in the first place. There’s not, of course.

Of course.

Mollymauk sits quietly on the knoll, staring out at the wide fields of some place they’ll never be able to name. The Empire, Caleb supposes, will have to suffice. This is all theirs. 

All  _ his. _

He shakes himself out of it before his mind starts swimming with flames and sits down beside Mollymauk instead. The little twitch of a purple tail in the silver-green grass is the only thing that lets Caleb know that his presence has been acknowledged. That’s fine; he’s fine with silence. 

The two of them sit in companionable silence for a time, but for once no conversation crops up. It seems as if they both have something on their minds tonight.

“Do you mind if I, ah, procure some lights?” he asks at last. He hazards a look over at Mollymauk to gauge his reaction.

He’s not disappointed: the corner of Mollymauk’s mouth twitches upward in some sort of wry grin. “I was under the impression that we were keeping watch,” he says, but then he waves his hand to emphasize the joke. “If you want to do your reading, who am I to stop you?”

“The de facto leader, maybe.”

Mollymauk snorts, “New management prefers not to be named as such.” He glances over at Caleb, who’s raising his hands to cast the spell for his dancing lights, and stops him. “Let me. This is dimmer, anyway,” he says, and he pulls Summer’s Dance from its sheath and draws it across his arm before Caleb can protest, lighting it up with faint golden light. Without another word, he lays the sword across his lap, keeping his hand on the hilt, and resumes staring out at the darkness beyond the camp.

Caleb blinks at Mollymauk, then down at where his blood wells crimson up from his scar-crossed arm, then down at the pages of his spellbook. The sword does offer a pleasant amount of light, he realizes. He murmurs a quiet thank you, not sure in the moment which language he ends up using. Zemnian and Common blend together so much in his mind that he often forgets which one to speak. He suspects that Mollymauk will understand the sentiment either way.

The two of them sit in silence for a long while. Caleb doesn’t feel nervous enough to feel the need to count the seconds, but the thought does occur to him. Instead, he focuses on the innate cadence of the arcane words in his book, murmuring them beneath his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the flow of Mollymauk’s blood slow to a stop, still tracing a scarlet line down his pale skin. Mollymauk doesn’t seem to mind. He just stares out at the plains in silence, breathing in a quiet rhythm.

Caleb will admit that he gets distracted. He’s memorized the arcane words; what he hasn’t learned is the way that soft radiance shines up and illuminates the planes and curves of Mollymauk’s face. There, the upturned corner of his mouth. There, the angle of his eyebrow. There, the exact place where his lilac skin gives way to the dark gray ridges of his horns.

Mollymauk doesn’t seem to mind the scrutiny if he notices it at all. He tilts his head, letting his adornments jingle softly against each other, and sighs, but doesn’t say a word.

Caleb notices, of course. 

“Long day?” he asks, not looking up from his book. That’s what people say, right?

“I’ve just been thinking.” Mollymauk taps his nail on the golden blade of Summer’s Dance; it answers him with a pleasant ring, and even though Caleb has no spells active, he can nearly feel the magic rolling from it. Though maybe he’s sensing the magic in his companion’s veins instead.

Caleb decides that he’s feeling daring tonight. “Memorizing Zemnian?” he asks.

Mollymauk pauses, and he lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. “I’ve been found out.”

“It is hard not to notice your own birth language,” Caleb says by way of apology. “Your pronunciation is admirable, though.” It’s mediocre in truth, but he’s just learning. He’ll get better with time. “Though I thought I might ask why you have decided to pick up a third language.”

“It’s-” Mollymauk stops and falls silent. 

Ah. That’s odd. It’s unlike him.

Carefully, he says, “If I’ve pressured you into revealing-”

Mollymauk blurts, “Everything you are is an antithesis to what I am.”

Caleb frowns.

Also odd.

“I just thought that- Oh, I don’t know. I guess I was thinking that by learning your language, I’d be able to understand you a bit more. Have something in common.” He buries his face in one hand, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The other hand stays wrapped quite firmly around the hilt of the golden blade, allowing the radiance of the sword to endure.

“We are not so different, you and I.”

“Don’t try to appease me, Caleb; it’s just the two of us. Honesty is allowed, you know. Shall we list the differences?” Mollymauk doesn’t wait for Caleb to reply and instead holds up a hand to 

“One: I care nothing of my past and you seem to be trying your damnedest to forget yours.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Caleb admits.

“Two: you know celestial, of all languages. Are you aware that you’re speaking to the devil creature that injures his enemies just by speaking his native tongue?”

“Quite aware, Mollymauk. And it’s quite impressive, if I might add.”

In this low light, Caleb might even be fooled into thinking that a blush rises on Mollymauk’s lavender cheeks. But he’s never known this creature of circus tricks and wonder to get embarrassed, so he supposes it’s a trick of the light. But he does like the way that Mollymauk casts his eyes downward at the words, dark eyelashes sweeping across his skin. He says, “Caleb, the point still stands.”

“Ah, but you get along with Yasha just fine, and she speaks celestial.”

Mollymauk waves that off; the light of the sword glints off his rings. “Yasha’s...different.”

“How so?”

“Well, she’s not you, for starters.”

Caleb blinks. “I’m not sure-”

With a pointedly forceful gesture, Mollymauk raises his third finger. “And  _ drei-” _

Caleb can’t help it: he laughs.

Mollymauk stops, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“You used Zemnian,” Caleb chuckles, and the laughter feels good in his chest. It feels natural, this. Laughing in the low light, watching the way all of Mollymauk’s metal jewelry casts light across his cheeks, is the warmest thing he’s felt since returning to the wild plains of the Empire. “Quite subconsciously.”

His companion tosses his dark curls out of his eyes, raising a single eyebrow. “Maybe the lessons are sticking.”

“I know someone who could teach you a few more words.” Caleb looks away. “If you’d like. Um.”

“I’d like that,” Mollymauk says. Then, quieter, “I’d like you.”

Caleb’s heart makes a curious leap. It’s been a very long time since he’s allowed himself to indulge in anything even remotely bordering romantic affection, but he finds that right now he doesn’t mind hearing Mollymauk say words like that. 

He throws caution to the wind and says, “There are several things I like about you, Mollymauk Tealeaf, though I don’t think I can quite name them all tonight.”

Mollymauk grins. “Too shy?”

“I have a shoddy memory.”

“That’s a lie, and we all know it.”

Caleb surprises himself by laughing once more. “I can name a few, perhaps.”

“Do tell.”

“I enjoy your wit, and your ideas, and the fact that you are unafraid of who you are. And I enjoy your company, Mollymauk, even if I am poor at showing it.”

Mollymauk blinks slowly, and Caleb can’t stop staring at the way his eyelashes cast violet shadows against lavender cheeks. “You’re a flatterer, Mister Caleb.”

“I’m truthful, is all.”

That elicits a short laugh from Mollymauk, who taps his fingers on his golden blade again. The music is calming in the middle of these wide, silent fields where they’re perhaps the only ones awake for miles around. Nothing is here to watch them but the moon, and even that is half-shrouded in clouds, deciding if it’s intruding on this moment or not. 

Caleb doesn’t ask Mollymauk to reciprocate, but he’s pleased when he hears the familiar lilt of a foreign accent.

“Well, Mister Caleb, I think that the fact that I clumsily attempted to learn your language is proof enough that I admire you. A lot about you is admirable, frankly.” He pauses, then adds, “Your face, for one. Your eyes when you get happy. When you cast spells. When you stop thinking and just enjoy your life.”

“I am enjoying life right now, I think,” Caleb says. When he dares look up at Mollymauk, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“I know you are,” Mollymauk says softly, and the gentlest smile spreads across his lips.

_ Oh. _

Well, he’d like to see Mollymauk smile like that again. 

Caleb ducks his head and picks at the bandages wrapped around his hands, inspecting them carefully. He busies himself with shutting his book and putting it away in his coat. It’s preferable to making eye contact, but he can still feel Mollymauk watching him. He asks, “Are we in agreement, then?”

“Is attraction a mutual agreement, Caleb?” Mollymauk smiles. “Do you have a contract for me to sign?”

_ “Nein.” _

“No, dear, that’s the team name.”

Caleb snorts. “Ridiculous.”

“I do believe you’re stuck with me,” Mollymauk tells him sagely, and with his free hand, he takes one of Caleb’s. His touch is quite tentative, far less bold than Caleb might have expected from him. But here in the half-light, his clothes are more muted, and his eyes shine of their own accord rather than gleaming along with his ensemble. Caleb thinks he might at last be understanding the difference between Molly the entertainer and Mollymauk the tiefling. Mollymauk who calls him  _ Mister Caleb  _ and learns Zemnian and stumbles around figuring out how to express himself.

He does like this Mollymauk, truly. 

“What was that third thing again?” Caleb asks. “You never said.”

“Well, I’m not quite sure I remember,” Mollymauk says, and he takes his hands from Summer’s Dance at last, plunging them into darkness.

All the better, then, that he can’t see a thing. It lets Caleb focus on Mollymauk beside him, and on the soft breeze of his breath across Caleb’s lips, and on the scent of iron and flowers that has always followed him. The soft tip of a tail finds its way around one of Caleb’s wrists, tugging him closer, and Caleb obeys, letting himself be pulled closer than he could ever hope to count.

When he feels Mollymauk’s lips on his at last, he’s not sure which language he uses to marvel at everything incredible about this moment.

He doesn’t think it matters.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Critical Role fic. I've been here since campaign 1 and I'm hoping to get more into fanworks this time around. :)
> 
> find me on tumblr at [triplehelix!](http://www.triplehelix.tumblr.com)


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